First Flight
by Need2Scream
Summary: Oneshot from "Sparkling" Universe. Prowl's testing out his wings for the first time in his life.


Prowl flexed his wings as he looked out over the deep gorge. Their first shore leave since he'd woken up in his new/old body and every mech and femme onboard the _Ark_ had wanted to know if their SIC could now rain terror on Decepticons from above. Silverbolt stood next to him, no trepidation whatsoever. He looked out at the emerald green sky and saw endless possibilities for fun. Prowl saw a terrifying and painful death on the sharp rocks below.

"Silverbolt…I don't know about this," he said, moving back half a step. His wings were heavy and strong on his shoulders, but he'd never even thought of flying before; Pit, he'd hardly been able to walk down the hall without wincing.

Silverbolt stepped back with him. "It's all right, Prowl. I promise, I won't let you fall. My wings are strong enough to carry us both." He'd been saying the same thing since they left the ship that morning. And part of Prowl knew Silverbolt wouldn't endanger him, but the other part that was still unfamiliar with his new functioning body was petrified. "Ratchet gave you clearance to try, remember? He wouldn't let you off that ship if he didn't think you could do this."

Prowl didn't move to the edge again but said, "What do I have to do?" His spark pulsed hard in his chest. The rocks below looked more and more like giant knives wedged into the ground. Silverbolt stretched his wings to their full width. They were half a span longer than Prowl's but Silverbolt was a full seeker. If this experiment didn't fail horribly and leave him mangled on the rocks below, Prowl would only be able to glide on the whim of the wind. Silverbolt could fly in almost any weather condition.

"All right," Silverbolt said, folding his wings back. "First, you want to give yourself a little height no matter how high you are when you take off. And you have to jump out. If you just jump straight up you'll smack the ends of your wings on the edge and that will hurt like a fragger." He jumped straight out from the cliff and fell for a few spark stopping seconds before flapping his great wings twice and shooting straight up into the air. Prowl watched him lazily circle on the air currents with a thrill of fear.

"It's just like jumping from a dropship," he told himself. Except that exercise had nearly killed him. He'd only done it once in basic because he'd had to. His rigid frame had almost shattered when he landed. The instructors still had no idea what had gone so horribly wrong, from their perspective he'd had an almost perfect jump. He wasn't certain if his knees actually still ached from that or if it was phantom pain from memory. "Jump out, open wings, don't die," he whispered. Swallowing hard he crouched without feeling any shooting pains and jumped out with all the strength he had.

His wings snapped out but the ground rushed toward him. His shoulders ached from the wind resistance but he wasn't slowing or arcing gracefully into the sky like Silverbolt. The rocks that had looked like small daggers grew as he fell until they looked like the gaping maw of some leviathan.

Strong hands wrapped around his arms and his descent slowed until he started rising again. He could hear his ragged breaths even over the flap of Silverbolt's wings. "It's all right, Prowl, I told you I can carry you." He couldn't answer. His wings hurt, a familiar pain he hadn't missed, and his spark was still ricocheting in his chest.

Silverbolt put him back where he'd started and Prowl took several steps back, wings wrapped around him. Silverbolt tilted his head to the side with a shadow of concern on his face. "Prowl, are you all right? You didn't drop that far, it's totally normal. Your wings just have to shake out and then they'll catch." The thought of doing the jump again almost made him purge.

Fighting for the rigid calmness he never thought he'd miss, Prowl said, "Silverbolt, I can't…the last time I had to do a jump the landing almost severed my spinal relays. And now I don't even have a parachute to slow me down."

Silverbolt frowned. "You don't trust your wings?"

"I've never had wings I could trust, Silverbolt. I've never flown. I've never practiced flying. Up to this point, my wings were merely decoration and a source of pain." The beautiful colors now reminded him of his creator and the mech he'd met only once that he was certain was his sire. But much as he'd loved his creator, the colors didn't inspire blind confidence.

Silverbolt flapped his wings. "These aren't decorations, Prowl. You have _wings_. Wings you can use. You just have to trust them." He made it sound so easy. Step One: Jump off a cliff. Step Two: Open wings. Step Three: Fly. "We can probably coax Skyfire out here, if you want. Then there will be two of us to catch you."

Prowl shuttered his optics and opened them with a long breath. "I think, I'd like to try this later." Stress induced exhaustion made his wings feel twice as heavy. He didn't want to think about how pitiful he looked. He almost missed his rigid frame. At least when he'd been so tired he could hardly keep his optics open he hadn't been able to slouch or drag his wings. Now he had to think about these things and remember to keep his head up and wings back. Silverbolt nodded and didn't comment on what undoubtedly was a pathetic sight of Prowl, Autobot Second in Command, terrified of falling.

Prowl stared out at the sky, a whip of anger uncoiling in him. Ortho hadn't been heard from since he had swept out and yet, like always, he was still there, still controlling things. Silverbolt walked past him back to the ship while Prowl glared at the sky. His wings worked. Silverbolt said they would, Ratchet said they would, even Wheeljack said they would work. But the threat of pain, the discomfort in his shoulders, kept him rooted to the spot. He had spent his life in pain and he'd still gone onto the field. He'd spent his life hardly able to bend his fingers enough to grip a stylus and he could still reassemble a rifle in under a breem.

A defiant growl rumbled his chest. He was not afraid of pain. He could deal with pain. Without giving it anymore thought he ran for the edge of the cliff and jumped.

His wings snapped out and the ache returned but he ignored it. The rocks rushed up to meet him again and he angled his wings forward. The canyon breeze caught him and suddenly the ground was gone. Open sky greeted him. The canyons funneled the winds like a wind tunnel and bobbed a little unsteady on the air currents but he was in the air. His wings were sore and not as strong as he'd thought, but they held him. With an exultant laugh he did a wide circle, a little shaky, certainly not graceful, but he did it.

But now his wings really were starting to hurt and he was wavering more. He clicked on his comm. link to Silverbolt. _Now that I'm up here…How do I land?_

 **oOo**

A/N: Updates are coming for all current stories! I want to finish WtLOR and then _Master's_ _Apprentice_ will have my undivided attention. But here's a little something that fits with the _Sparkling_ story.


End file.
